


First Aid

by barefootwithneonhands



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Crack, First Aid, Fluff, Gen, Hydration is important, Muffins, set after 01x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14262288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootwithneonhands/pseuds/barefootwithneonhands
Summary: After Flynn strands them in 1754, Wyatt is determined to improve his team’s chances for survival on the next mission. And to keep Lucy hydrated. Rufus is just along for the ride, and he brought snacks. Post 01x07.





	First Aid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisybalance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybalance/gifts).



Lucy stared at the wall and sucked down another shot of the triple espresso non-fat pixie-stick-on-crack monstrosity Wyatt had shoved at her as soon as she dragged herself through the door. It was Saturday. It was early. She could still smell the stench of wood smoke and fear and death on her skin from their trip to 1754.

She took another hit of the blessedly warm and thoroughly modern concoction. Her teeth were probably going to rot out of her head, but at the rate Flynn was going she probably wouldn’t live long enough to actually care.

Rufus opened the conference room door and stuck his head in. “Morning! Is this it?”

Lucy grunted and saluted him with her cup.

He smiled and shoved the rest of the way in, carrying a huge soft sided cooler bag that he placed reverently on the long table. “You know, I’m here a lot on the weekends. Or I have been. Because, yanno, that’s the deal when you work for Connor Mason on a top secret time machine project.” He unzipped the top and started unloading large Tupperware containers. “But my mom took pity on us.” Rufus cracked open one of the lids and Lucy’s mouth started to water.

Muffins. Giant, golden muffins. Studded with blueberries, veined with a decadent cinnamon swirl, and crowned with… “Is that strudel?”

“Yep,” said Rufus, pulling out cloth napkins. “Homemade brown sugar strudel.” Somehow he made the whole spread look like something out of _Better Homes & Gardens_ in under 30 seconds. If Rufus ever decided to run screaming from Mason Industries, he would conquer Martha Stewart’s empire within a month.

“Um. Coffee?” Lucy pointed at the brown paper tray bulging with huge coffee cups and stuffed to the gills with napkins, sugar, and coffee stirrers. Her synapses still weren’t firing on all cylinders, but some nagging echo of her mother’s voice demanded she contribute _something_. Even if Wyatt had actually brought the coffee.

“Thanks!” He handed her a muffin on a red linen napkin and grabbed one of the coffee cups before settling in with his own Miraculous Morning Pastry. “Is Wyatt coming? Wyatt told us to be here, right?’

“Mmm,” said Lucy intelligently around a mouthful of the greatest muffin in the history of muffins. She swallowed. “He was here. He said to ‘sit tight’.”

“I heard that if he’s not here in 15 minutes we can leave.” Rufus grinned at her, clearly one of those terrible morning people at peace with the world when the sun was barely over the horizon. “It’s a law.”

“I can still crawl back into my bed. It’s probably still warm.” Her bed, which was filled with memory foam and not pine needles and was in her nice warm house and not on the freezing ground of colonial Pennsylvania. Her bed, which did not have anything moving in it besides her.

She stared down at the lid of her coffee cup. Wyatt had written “Lucy” on it in his strong, spiky scrawl. “Does he seem okay to you? Wyatt, I mean.”

Rufus chewed meditatively. “Compared to?”

“After 1754?”

“Oh, after Flynn stranded us there and we almost died a bunch of times?” He waggled his eyebrows. “I mean, I know I’m not okay. And you’re not okay.”

“Hey, I’m okay!”

Rufus gave her a Look over his coffee cup.

“And anyway,” Lucy grumbled, “how’re things with Jiya?”

Rufus choked on his coffee.

Lucy was whacking Rufus on the back when Wyatt strode into the conference room with a giant khaki backpack in his hand. He stared at them. “Five minutes. I was gone five. Entire. Minutes.”

“Wrong pipe,” wheezed Rufus.

“Muffin,” offered Lucy.

“Today we’re going to talk about not dying,” said Wyatt. He glowered at them briefly and then swung the backpack onto the table. It landed with a dull thud and the muffins jumped. Lucy definitely did not jump, because one could not jump with as much caffeine as was currently in her system. One, Lucy thought, merely jittered more jitterily.

“Not dying is good,” Rufus said as he straightened. “I am a fan of not dying. Also, my mom sent muffins. And other stuff. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here today.”

“We’re here as long as it takes for you two to master basic First Aid.” Wyatt grabbed a muffin and moved it to his side of the conference table. Lucy sat back down next to Rufus and made a small wall of coffee and pastries between her and Wyatt’s ridiculously large backpack.

Wyatt stood tall and squared his shoulders. “Last week we were dropped into a war zone. We were stranded—”

“We were there,” muttered Lucy.

“Told ya,” Rufus whispered at her.

“Standing right here,” said Wyatt. “Anyway, as I was saying. By definition, we spend a lot of time beyond the reach of modern medicine. Today, we’re going to fix that.” He patted the giant bag. “This is a tactical trauma kit. It’s going to live in the Lifeboat from now on.”

“Its name is Med?” Rufus squinted at the giant M, E, and D emblazoned across the top of the bag. 

Wyatt gave him the hairy eyeball and took a big bite of muffin. It was a really good hairy eyeball, the kind they taught you in the military along with the thirty ways to kill a man with your pinkie.

“I like ‘Med’,” said Lucy. “It’s a good name. If he’s a part of the team, he should have a name.”

Wyatt took another bite of his muffin and chewed grimly.

Rufus raised his hand. “All in favor of naming Med, ‘Med’, say aye.”

“Aye.” Lucy saluted the newest member of their team with her coffee cup.

Rufus nodded. “The ayes carry.”

Wyatt closed his eyes for a moment, patted Med, and squared his shoulders again. “So this bag contains over 200 essential medical items. It only weighs about 10 pounds so both of you should be able to haul it wherever it’s needed.

“Hey, I work out,” said Lucy. “Sometimes.” Technically every faculty member was free to use the facilities at the school, so she even had a gym membership. Sure, she may not know where the campus gyms _were_ , but she could go to them any time she wanted.

“I definitely do not,” said Rufus. He passed Wyatt another muffin and grabbed a third for himself.

“And that is a conversation for a different day.” Wyatt unlaced Med’s top compartment and began pulling out things wrapped in plastic and paper. Many of them had terrifying words like “Hemostatic Agent” on them.  “By the end of today you’re going to be familiar with every piece of equipment in this bag. You’re going to know where every piece of equipment is in this bag. And you’ll be able to find and use it in the dark.”

“Oooh,” said Rufus. “That’s why you wanted the only conference room in the building without natural light or windows.”

“Yes, thank you for the conference room that’s basically a tomb.” Lucy’s smile had sharp edges. “Really appreciate it.” Wyatt paused and looked at her, really looked at her, and then ducked under the table.

“Let’s switch you to decaf.” He rose and handed her a bottle of water, gently sliding the coffee cup away and down the conference room table. Lucy made a tiny noise of woe and distress. “Look. This is only going to take a couple of hours. Then you can have as much sunlight and coffee as you want, okay?”

Lucy twisted the cap off viciously and took a long swig. “Does it have to be in the dark?”

Wyatt braced both hands on the table and looked at them both sternly. “Can you guarantee the next place we go will have electric lighting? We could get stuck in the woods again, without candles or flashlights.” He shoved back from the table. “My job is to keep the two of you alive. This is part of it. I am personally going to make sure you know how much pressure to put on a wound, how to build a splint, and how to do CPR.”

Rufus raised his hand again. “I can do CPR.”

Lucy turned to him. “You can?”

He shrugged. “I have a lot of older Aunties and Uncles and… yeah. I mean, it was just a good idea to learn before family reunions. That and the best place to get 300 t-shirts printed up that say ‘Carlin Family Fun Fest 2013’ on them.” He unzipped his hoodie to reveal a turquoise t-shirt with rustic white lettering.

“Does Jiya know about your mad skills?” Lucy snagged another muffin.

“Do you guys want to be here until Monday or not,” asked Wyatt.

Lucy and Rufus swapped a look. “Not,” they both mumbled.

 

* * *

 

Rufus’s mom had packed sandwiches, too. “Oh my god,” Lucy mumbled around a mouthful of the most indecently good sandwich in her life. “How has your mom not opened her own restaurant?”

The table between them was littered with shredded paper packaging and torn plastic wrap. Rufus still had the blood pressure cuff wrapped around his upper arm. Lucy had butterfly stitches artfully applied around her eyebrows in a sunburst pattern. Wyatt had the stethoscope carefully coiled and protected behind his elbow on the table.

“This is just her thing.” Rufus shrugged. “You know, that thing you do for fun that if you did it for profit it wouldn’t be fun anymore?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I have a PhD and several books devoted to that very idea.”

Wyatt frowned, midway through spearing another chunk of potato salad onto his fork. “I thought you loved history.”

“I do.” It was Lucy’s turn to shrug. “But it’s also, like, the only thing I’m good at. So it’s my work and it’s my life and it’s kind of everything else in between.” She picked a small strip of meat off her sandwich and popped it into her mouth. “And it’s not like I’ve got hobbies. Do you know how old I am? Do you know what you have to do to get a tenure track position at my age?”

“You could get a hobby now,” said Wyatt. He fished underneath the table for a moment and then handed her another bottle of water. A small collection of Wyatt water bottles was growing around her part of the table.

“I think my hobby now is traveling through time to stop a crazed terrorist from destroying history as we know it. And then reading every history book I can get my hands on. Just on the off chance I end up having to know exactly which inventions debuted at the Chicago World’s Fair.” She took a small sip of water. At the rate she was going she’d have to pee every 10 minutes and she actually wouldn’t get out of here until Monday. Wyatt cocked an eyebrow at her and she quickly took another sip of water. The man really cared a lot about hydration.

Rufus shook his head and grabbed another pickled radish. “You’ve gotta have balance.”  
  
“Says the guy who was just talking a couple of hours ago about how he spent a lot of time here on the weekends. Working on, oh wait, what was it?” Lucy cocked her head. “Was it a time machine?”

“Nah,” said Wyatt, helping himself to the radishes too. “Those aren’t a real thing.”

“Ha. Yeah. Real funny,” said Rufus. “But the point is, I do go home every night and do something different. And sometimes on the weekends, too.”

Lucy shook her hands to clear the air. “Ugh. This is too serious for weekend talk.” She pointed at Wyatt. “Okay, tell us again about what we can and can’t use the after-bite wipes on. Lots of things bite. Why can’t we use them for all the bites?”

He sighed. “Insects, yes. Raccoons, no. One itches. One bleeds.” He picked up the small green and white packet. “You can also, in a pinch, use this for stuff like poison ivy.”

“I know that one!” Rufus grinned. “Leaves of three, let it be. Leaves of four,” he caught Wyatt’s look, “ah, avoid at all costs. Also let it be. Head in the other direction.” He innocently popped a bit more of the olive spread from his muffalata sandwich in his mouth.

“I really wish I’d known that before Fort Duquesne,” muttered Lucy.

Wyatt looked thoughtful. “You know, we could do some wilderness training. Go camping.” He rubbed his hands together. “We should probably have a tent in the Lifeboat, too. And you should both know how to set it up.”

“Nope,” said Lucy.

“Nuh-uh,” said Rufus.

“Drawing the line,” said Lucy. She stood and placed her napkin gently on the table. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m going to wash my hands before our next round of playing doctor.”

Rufus opened his mouth and then carefully closed it again as she strode out the door. He took an innocent bite of his sandwich instead.

The door closed behind Lucy and Wyatt waited a full two seconds before turning to Rufus. “Do you think Lucy’s okay?”

Rufus lifted both eyebrows like Mr. Spock faced with a particularly challenging human emotional crisis. “In the way of…?” He set down his sandwich, the better to give this strange Earth-man all of his attention.

“She’s been ducking out a lot.” Wyatt frowned. “I know she’s not a fan of enclosed spaces like this. But it’s the only place in the building without a lot of foot traffic.”

“Dude,” Rufus leaned forward, “you’ve shoved, like, seven bottles of water at her.” He glanced over and revised his count. “Eight. Eight bottles of water. In five hours.”

Wyatt stared at him blankly. Rufus sighed. He was literally the last man on the planet who should be having this kind of talk with Wyatt Logan. Dealing with this man’s emotional stuff required more degrees than any one human had _and_ a land mine removal team. He tried anyway. “Water is not hugs.”

Wyatt’s frown was back. It had brought its big brother. And a pair of scowly, confused eyebrows along with it. “Water,” he said slowly. “Is not hugs.”

“Yes.” Rufus nodded. “Water is not hugs.”

“You’re right.” Wyatt grabbed his phone and pulled up the memo app. “I should probably add some basic poison antidotes, maybe some anti-seizure medication, and a thermometer.” He put his phone away and then lifted the back of his hand to Rufus’s forehead. “You feel kinda warm.”

Lucy walked back into the conference room, stopped, and stared at both of them. “Okay. Hi?”

Rufus shoved back from the table, his rolling chair crashing straight back into the wall. The chair bounced away from the wall gently and he used the momentum to catapult himself to his feet. “Wyatt says I don’t feel well and can go home.” He bent down and snatched up his messenger bag. “You guys keep the food, I’ll get the cooler and stuff back from you the next time I see you.” He dashed for the door, and Lucy jumped into the room to give him space as he rushed past. “Byeeeee!”

Wyatt looked at Rufus’s gently spinning chair and cocked his head. “He said he didn’t work out. He’s fast for a guy who doesn’t work out.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and slipped back into her own chair. “Sufficient motivation.”

“Hey, this stuff is important.” Wyatt pushed his sandwich away and stood. “Just a sec. He’s probably at the elevator, punching the button a bunch to make it go faster. I’ll drag him back here.”

“Hey, no, wait.” Lucy laid a hand on his forearm and he stared down at it. She stared at it too, for a moment. He was warm and very, very tense under her fingers. She looked back up at him. “Wait. Okay?”

Wyatt dropped back into his seat with a huff. “Look, I get it.” She patted his arm and then dropped her hand back down to the table. Her fingers plucked awkwardly one of Rufus’s red linen napkins. “Look. Ending up stuck in the French and Indian War was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done, right?”

His mouth firmed into a thin, tight line, and he reached under the table. Lucy was glancing at the nearly full water bottle next to her when another one appeared in her line of vision. She sighed and took it.

“And if you had asked me two weeks ago what the scariest thing I’d ever done was,” she said, rolling the new water bottle back and forth between her palms, “I would have said being stuck in the Alamo trying to write William B. Travis’s ‘Victory or Death’ letter to keep history from erasing itself.”

“Yeah. That was pretty not great.” Wyatt sighed, too. “It’s just,” he shoved a hand through his hair. “It’s just that everyone keeps trying to kill you guys.”

“Hey! They keep trying to kill you too.” She put the bottle down to join its friends.

Wyatt looked at the water bottles as though seeing them for the first time. “Yeah, I noticed that. But they’re supposed to be trying to kill me.” His lips moved like he was counting under his breath.

Lucy’s head snapped back and she felt a frown tugging down the corners of her mouth. “Excuse me? Hey, you do a lot more for this team then just be the guy everyone’s trying to kill. Like,” she waved a hand, “you’re really good at stealing cars.”

“… Thanks?”

“And you fought Nazis!” She stabbed a finger in the air and shook it. “You fought Nazis _twice_. Who else can say that?”

“My grandfather?”

“Ugh.” Lucy shoved her chair back and stalked over to his side of the table. “Look.” Wyatt’s eyes grew wide and she grabbed both arms of his chair, leaning down to look him in the eye. “Look. Everything’s really crazy right now. My sister got erased from existence. Three months ago, my biggest problem was not being named chair of the department my mother created. Now we have terrorists,” she poked him in the shoulder, “and Rufus says I got hit on by Robert Todd Lincoln—”

Wyatt’s nostrils flared. “You got what by who?”

Lucy poked him again. “Pay attention. Where was I?” She blinked and then poked him once more for good measure. “Right. Don’t forget the atomic bombs.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “And sure, I can handle the history stuff and Rufus can handle the crazy science stuff.”

“And I can steal cars?” Wyatt crossed his own arms.

“ _And_ , you can handle the fact that we shouldn’t have survived the _Hindenburg_ , like at _all_. That was all you, buddy.” She held out another finger to poke him and he dodged, rolling his chair back a controlled half inch.

“Buddy?” He raised an eyebrow.

Her lips twitched and she boosted herself up on the conference table in front of him. “Pal?”

Wyatt leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, raising the other eyebrow. “Pal?”

Lucy blew out a puff of air. “Okay, fine. Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan.” She kicked her feet a bit and her heel glanced off something big and heavy underneath the table.

“Wyatt’s just fine, ma’am.” He gave her his big, shy Texas smile. Which was different from his small, tight, “I am surrounded by crazy people” smile, and also different from his medium, dead-eyed, “I’m going to kill everyone in this room in the next hour” smile. She wondered when she’d started paying attention to the difference.

Her heel knocked against the big thing under the table again and she frowned. “Ow. What the heck do you have under there?” She pushed herself off the table and crouched down to peer under it.

Three giant cases of bottled water stared back at her. Still kneeling, she gazed up at Wyatt in horror. “Oh my god. How long did you think this would take?”

He nodded and slapped on his “I’m Delta Force and I’m secretly laughing my ass off at you” mask of total blankness. His mouth was hard and neutral, his face was totally relaxed, and his eyes sparkled like sapphires. “I aim to be prepared for any and all eventualities, ma’am.”

She snorted and grabbed one of the bottles from the nearest case. Lucy straightened and handed it to him. Wyatt took it in both hands and for a moment looked completely stricken, his eyes flicking up to meet hers and then down to the bottle he cradled like a benediction.

Lucy reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. “C’mon. Do you think Rufus’s mom sent dessert, too?”

Wyatt laughed, cracked open the water bottle, and took a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This is an unbeated work of flash fiction. All errors belong to me and sleep deprivation.  
> 1a) It's also crack. I... take some liberties when I get cracky.  
> 2) Meet Med, the newest member of the team! https://www.rangerjoes.com/First-AidMedical-Tactical-Trauma-Kit-3-P2480.aspx  
> 3) Written for April 2018 Camp Nanowrimo, the only thing that's got me writing again after a two-year hiatus.  
> 4) Inspired by Anonymous Amy, who left a comment on my first fic for this fandom complaining of a distinct lack of Wyatt. I hope this makes up for it.  
> 5) Blame everything else on daisybalance, who dragged me into this fandom kicking and screaming.


End file.
